


Surfing Is Bad For You

by Seawitch3



Category: Game of Thrones (TV), Jaime Lannnister, Jaime/Brienne - Fandom, Tyrion Lannister - Fandom, brienne of tarth - Fandom
Genre: Almostabeauty, F/M, Nurdles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-07
Updated: 2017-04-07
Packaged: 2018-10-15 23:32:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10559562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Seawitch3/pseuds/Seawitch3
Summary: This is just a single chapter, picking up roughly where Chapter 25 of Bound Together left off, and (extremely swiftly) moving it towards a conclusion. Not having the talent of writing good smut that the original authors do, I have not even tried, so if you're looking for a bit of kink, I'm afraid this is the wrong place.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Nurdles](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nurdles/gifts), [almostabeauty](https://archiveofourown.org/users/almostabeauty/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Bound Together](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1542590) by [almostabeauty](https://archiveofourown.org/users/almostabeauty/pseuds/almostabeauty), [Nurdles](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nurdles/pseuds/Nurdles). 



> Getting a new chapter in the spectacular series Bound Together, by the lovely Nurdles and Almostabeauty, is guaranteed to improve any day. But given that they've been busy lately, and I was bored while on leave for a few days, I decided to write fanfic on their fanfic. I've never written anything before, so I hope no-one (particularly Nurdles and Almostabeauty) is too horrified, and willing to cut me some slack.

_“Jaime….”_

_At the same moment they both froze, realising what she had said._

**BRIENNE**

Their room for the night at the club was something new to Brienne; entering through the ‘back’ wall, there was another door to the right leading to a bathroom and a large cupboard to the left, with highly polished, ornate wooden doors. Other than that, the only furniture was a large raised bed in the centre of the room. But unlike their weirwood room, the bed wasn’t really the point. The room was an eyrie, high up and jutting out from the side of the castle, the other four walls of the pentagon-shaped room consisting of floor to ceiling glass. Brienne felt the room was both exposing and exposed – there was nowhere to hide here (although they were so high no-one could have seen them), but in daylight you would have been able to see forever. In the dark, lights twinkled in the distance like fireflies, while further out the solid velvet blackness suggested the ocean on one side, and mountains on the other.

She turned to Jaime, _Leo_ , to say something but in those seconds he had crossed the room, and was right behind her. Without saying anything he wrapped his arms around her, lifting her like it was nothing and almost threw her onto the bed. She let out a huff of surprised laughter, but followed his lead. He was almost rough in his speed to try and rid her of her clothing, not caring what it was she wore, only that he got to the smooth, freckled skin beneath. She lay on her back looking up at him, while he struggled to undo and remove his trousers, eventually reaching out with her fingers and gently dragging her nails across his bare thighs. He shuddered, and almost fell on her in his haste to enter her. This was no gentle fuck but a hard, fast, silent declaration of his need for her and she wrapped her arms and legs around him, pinioning him inside her while he thrust, moaning his name in the depths of her own need.

_“Jaime…..”_

And that was how they froze to utter stillness, hip to hip, chest to chest, coated in sweat and breathing hard, his green eyes staring into her blue ones, both opened wide in shock. She had moaned his name, _his real name_ , in a moment of absolute abandon. Brienne felt her whole body tensing as Jaime stared at her, a strange expression in his eyes, before pulling out of her and backing slowly up the bed to kneel between her ankles. She sat up, at the other end of the bed from him, pulling her knees to her chest and wrapping her arms around them, unconsciously trying to protect herself from what she knew would be coming. She waited for what felt like a long time.

“So, it seems you have the better of me. How long have you known my name? And how?”

“I…it wasn’t intentional….” She could hear the pleading in her voice, and hated herself for it. “I met your brother. Tyrion. We were away on a work trip. One evening we got talking and he was telling me about his brother and showing me pictures on his phone….and…and there you were”.

“A work trip…? Wait – _you’re_ the blonde who was in bed with him?” Jaime’s voice exploded out of his chest in a mixture of disbelief and rage.

“What?”

“While he was gone he sent me a picture of a woman in bed with him; I only saw her hair, and the worst I thought, _the worst_ , was that he was being a dick to Tysha, that she didn’t deserve to be treated that way. But you….you and Tyrion….”. His voice, strangled by the sheer weight of confused rage and hurt and disbelief, stuttered to a halt while he stared at her, seemingly unable to move or even formulate another thought.

“Have you lost your damn mind? How could you possibly think I would do that?” She could see his pain, but it only lit a fire of anger in her own chest at the injustice and stupidity of what he was saying. “We’re _friends_. We had a few drinks and talked about the people we cared for and then I fell asleep. Next to him. Wearing my pyjamas. And that is all that happened, and you know why? Because both of us are involved with other people. He _loves_ Tysha. And I told him about this man I was …..tangled up with, this man who gets into my thoughts in the day and my dreams at night, who I had promised to be exclusive with while we are here...... _how could you_ think I would do something like that?”

**JAIME**

As her voice rose with her anger, his subsided and he saw the ridiculousness of the situation. He knew how much Tyrion loved Tysha, and how unlikely it was (despite the little creep’s overactive libido) that he would cheat on her. Most of all he remembered her clear-eyed promise to be faithful to him for as long as they were at the club. The way she had told him shyly, like she was offering something of minimal value, when in truth it had warmed him through to his core. Whatever else happened, he knew she would keep that promise to him, like he knew the sun would rise in the morning. He let out a breath, feeling like a fool, and shook his head.

“Because I am an idiot, with less brain than a demented monkey?” He looked at her with his most contrite face, and her lips twitched slightly. Leaning forward, he ran one tanned hand down her shin and briefly took hold of her foot, squeezing it gently.

“Truly, I am sorry. Forgive me”.

“A demented, horny monkey.” Her eyes had travelled down his torso to his still-very-obvious arousal. This would never do; they had to talk, and if she kept looking at him like that he wouldn’t be able to stop himself jumping her again.

Sighing, he sat back on his heels and looked around the room until his eyes lighted on the cupboard set against the back wall. Getting off the bed he walked over to it, feeling her eyes following his movements. Inside, on the upper shelves, were the usual artfully arranged toys, ropes, and objects he almost didn’t dare imagine the purpose for. Underneath, on long shelves were some blankets of the softest pure cashmere. He pulled out two, one white, which he wrapped around himself, and the other red and gold, which he carried back and carefully draped around her before sitting back down on the bed. He faced her, mirroring her posture, now slightly relaxed into crossed legs, but still with her arms extended out in front of her. This was no body language welcoming him into her; this was defensive, tense, and worrying. Mentally, he steeled himself to do what he knew needed to be done – not to cover his emotions in flippant jests or mockery, but to tell the truth. With any luck he could trust her enough not to laugh in his face. With any luck she would trust him enough not to run screaming from the room.

“Brienne”. It was the first time he had ever said her name aloud to her and he saw the effect it had, the surprise and confusion and alarm. “Yes, I know your name as well. Although, my excuse is not quite as good or honourable. I…..I told you I loved you and I do. You’ve known for weeks I want us to be together, not just here at the club but outside as well. And when you wouldn’t agree, I played dirty. I took the things you told me and I searched the internet and….I found you. The real you. The you I want to get to know as well as I know Sapphire. This isn’t the way I wanted things to happen between us tonight, but I’m looking for so much more than just tonight. I want to share my passions with you, and have you share yours with me. I want us to get takeaway together, and drink whisky together, and share lazy mornings in bed together. Please, Brienne. What we have here is so much more than I could ever have expected, but it’s not enough. I want more of you than this. I want all of you.”

She was looking down at her hands and he ground to a halt, desperate to make her believe him, to make her agree to what he proposed, and watched her carefully. When she finally raised her head and looked him in the eye, her words – flat, expressionless – hit him like a punch in the solar plexus.

“I trusted you”.

**BRIENNE**

She felt like she was sitting at the bottom of the sea looking up at the world. She had given him her total trust the last time they had been here, had bared the inside of her scoured soul, and she had believed he could be trusted with it. And now she saw that he would use even the memory of her father, her brother, to get what he wanted. Even the reason for her scars.

Looking up at him, she could see the tension in his shoulders and jaw as he tried to hold himself still and wait for her to speak. Part of her longed to reach out to him, to run her fingers across the stubble on his jaw and tangle in his hair. To place her hands on his bare shoulders, straddle him and have him fuck her until she didn’t need to think of anything ever again. But the knowledge that he had used her trust against her weighed like a stone in her chest. She wanted to crawl away somewhere small and safe, and just hide, but in the instant that her body started to slump he reached across the bed for her, offering the only comfort he could.

As if she’d been electrocuted, she scrambled back across the bed away from him, unable to bear the thought of his touch. Unable to be certain she would be able to resist it. She bent to collect her clothes where they had fallen, unheeded, on the floor, and pulled them on before sitting back down on the edge of the bed and wearily looking at him.

“You’re asking me to trust that you will want me in the clear light of day. In this place, we are only a part of ourselves, the part we choose to show, the part we want to be. Sapphire can do things with you in here that feel so wild….so free……but that’s not who Brienne is. You don’t know Brienne, and whatever you say here, you may not love her. And today you’ve given her no cause to trust you.”

“Will you not give us the chance to find out?”

“I….don’t know. Maybe. But I need time, this feels too raw, too much. Sapphire and Leo are gone. And I don’t know whether Brienne and Jaime could ever be anything more to each other than a memory. Something embarrassing and painful, that we would rather forget. I don’t know.”

Jaime looked so stricken, so panicked, that she reached out a hand, lightly touching the tips of his fingers with her own. Stepping in to him, her breath ghosting over his face, she said “I’ll be here next week. Brienne and Jaime can ….talk. See who we are, together. If you want”.

“Oh, I want. I’ll always want.”

He tried to reach for her, wrap his arms around her waist, but she stepped back, out of his reach, and walked out of the room.

 

**JAIME**

Jaime collected the remainder of his clothes, and dressed slowly. It could have gone worse, he supposed. Who they were, and how they came to be so, was out in the open, and she hadn’t actually run screaming. Even if she had walked pretty fast. But she said they could talk next week. Between now and then, he knew he would be able to summon up enough charm to win her over.

It was early still, and all the other club members were still enjoying their evenings together; walking back to the lobby he heard the odd sound from behind the doors he passed. Each one tore at his heart a bit more, making him wish his Brienne were with him. He was still aching for her. Reaching the lobby, he asked for the Shadowcat to brought around, and taking one look at him, the concierge didn’t ask questions or make conversation, simply nodded and relayed the message quickly and quietly. Stepping to the large double doors, Jaime haggardly drew his hands across his face, and only then realised he was still wearing his mask, had been all evening. And so had she. They had fucked, and talked, openly and clearly for the first time about how they felt, but neither had taken their masks off.

**BRIENNE**

Brienne leant back in her office chair and cursed Tyrion Lannister into every single one of the seven hells. It was Monday, and she still felt bruised and shaken by the events of Thursday night. Still had no idea what she could say, should say, _wanted to say_ to Jaime Lannister. The man who was her beloved Leo, and yet somehow, not.

But now that question had just become more urgent, and considerably more fraught. When she’d picked up the phone to Tyrion, she had been hoping for good news about the funding, but also braced for his mocking, should Jaime have chosen to tell Tyrion about the club and her. What he actually told her was possibly even less welcome. The Lannister Board of Directors held an annual Innovation and Achievement Awards dinner; she herself had never gone, never been deemed important enough, but she had heard about it from some of the senior academics. Incredibly dressy, incredibly corporate, incredibly tedious. Unfortunately for her, the inevitably dull-sounding keynote speaker had dropped out after very publically being caught by a gossip magazine with his pants round his ankles and his dick in someone other than his devoted and equally dull wife, leaving the Lannister Board with no key speaker. So Tyrion had apparently volunteered her to take his place, on the basis that she was an up and coming scientist at the absolute cutting edge of her field, leading the charge, cracking open the mysteries, blah blah blah….oh, the awful little man had rolled out all the clichés he could lay his hands on. Even if the thought of writing and delivering a keynote speech in two days at such an event didn’t fill her with horror, the possibility that Jaime might be there made her stomach twist with an agonising mix of fear, desperation and hope. Still, embarrassment and reticence prevented her from asking Tyrion outright if he would be, and she would have just turned him down flat if he hadn’t wheedled that such an engagement would hugely raise the project profile, and would help considerably with their funding issues. She was finding that the younger Lannister brother was equally as good at tying her in knots as the older brother. Just rather less literally so.

***********

Gods, she _hated_ formal dress. As Brienne stepped into the echoing atrium of the extraordinarily corporate Harrenhal Conference Centre, she felt like a turkey, trussed up for a mid-Winter feast. Upon hearing what Brienne was up against, Margaery had aggressively stepped up her campaign to disarm Brienne of her favoured sartorial shields, telling her that the professional, sensible plain black trouser suit she had planned to wear was a positive crime against fashion, and could not be countenanced. Once again, she took Brienne shopping, but this time to some kind of high end boutique she favoured for the smarter events she chose to attend. The women who worked in the boutique were in raptures over Brienne’s height, which apparently closely matched that of the models used to display the creations of this fashion house. Having turned down numerous dresses for having too much lace, or frills, or complications, one of the women returned from the back with a long, elegant jumpsuit, black and covered in sequins across the waist and hips, but with a plunging v-shaped neckline. It was very….not her. But it fitted fine, and was about as understated as it was possible to be in a place that catered to the wealthy looking for high end couture. When paired with some truly formidable heels, and with her hair slicked back to try and tame some of its wilder behaviour, she looked almost….glamorous. Margaery had insisted that she also ditch her understated look of minimal make up for some kohl eyeliner, smoky eye shadow and bright red lipstick. As uncomfortable as she felt, even Brienne had to admit that Margaery had helped her feel like she belonged in such a crowd, like she could hold her own. More than hold her own if she had to.

***********

The atrium itself was all marble floors and glass walls, with long hanging drapes,and the standard ferns and pot plants dotted around. Set up around the walls were long buffet tables piled high with the sort of event finger food that probably was sold as high-end, but when compared to the refreshments available at the club, just looked unimaginative. She was particularly repulsed by small squares of toast covered in utterly unidentifiable blobs of mush. Waiters in white jackets circulated with glasses of champagne (of considerably better quality than the finger food), and guests stood around in formal wear, chatting and eyeing each other up.

She had just picked up a glass of champagne and was wondering how long she would have to stay, when she heard him behind her.

“Well hello, you sexy thing, you. You’ve scrubbed up beautifully, I must say”.

She sighed, and turned round. “Hello, Tyrion, nice to see you too. And if you make so much as one filthy comment about me tonight I’ll wash your dirty mouth out with soap – I’m here to try and save our funding and that is it. The least you could do is be nice to me, after springing this on me at the last minute”.

Tyrion didn’t look the least bit chastened as he grabbed a passing waiter, commandeering two of the champagne glasses, before downing one and sipping from the other. “If it makes you feel better, this evening isn’t likely to be a whirlwind of fun and laughter for me, either. Tysha couldn’t come, and far too many of my dearly beloved family are here tonight for my comfort.” His eyes strayed behind her, and he grinned. “Speaking of family, Legs, you should really meet the only one I don’t utterly despise, now you’ve got the chance. Jaime! You came after all”.

Brienne felt like her heart had stopped, and all the breath had been squeezed from her lungs. Bracing her back and shoulders, she turned slowly, and came face to face with the notorious Jaime Lannister. His golden hair brushed back away from his forehead, beard neatly trimmed and brushed, and wearing a black, classic tuxedo like a second skin, he was extraordinarily, ridiculously handsome. But she was expecting that. What she wasn’t expecting was his face. So open, so searching…..and so mask-less. For the first time, Brienne Tarth and Jaime Lannister stood and looked each other full in the face.

The charge between them was immediate and electric. Never breaking eye contact, Jaime reached out a hand, picked up hers and raised it to his warm, dry lips, brushing them lightly across the back of her hand. She felt the shock of it race up her arm to her face, and flushed hotly, but she refused to look away. Tyrion, who had been looking from one to the other for a long minute, frowning in puzzlement, suddenly grinned, a gleam lighting his mismatched eyes. “ _Oh_ , damn I’m getting slow. Well this should be interesting. I’ll, er, catch up with you two later, then, shall I?” And he sidled off, chuckling.

“Well that’s a first”, Jaime muttered, “not even a single filthy comment…”

“I know; but I did threaten to wash his mouth out with soap if he did. Last time he called my bluff I picked him up and walked the length of an airport with him under my arm, kicking his legs and yelling at me” Brienne responded tartly.

“You didn’t!”. Jaime smothered a laugh at the thought, before his gaze grew serious again, and raked down her body. She saw him swallow convulsively before his eyes came back up to her face, with an expression that clearly indicated what he was thinking. “Good gods, woman, you’ll give me a heart attack in that outfit. Did you wear it for me?”

Brienne let her own gaze travel down over his beautifully tailored suit, and suddenly found she wished she could rip it off him right then and there. Perhaps there was more of Sapphire and Leo in them than she had realised. But still….she was here to do a job, not get hot and heavy with him in some broom cupboard.

“No, ser, I did not. I didn’t know you would be here, Tyrion didn’t say….”

“Ah. How disappointing. But may I say, you have quite taken my breath away….Dr. Tarth”.

Brienne looked at him and saw her Leo, inside the Jaime standing in front of her. The man who made her laugh, who made her feel safe, who made her feel wild with desire, who made her feel loved….. but she could also see the man with the truly terrible reputation, the one who casually dated models, staying faithful to no-one for long. The rich boy with an almost cavalier attitude to the feelings and heart of someone like herself. She feared what his pride and his arrogance might drive him to. So she gently extricated her hand, which she was somewhat shocked to realise he had still been holding, and said “thank you, Mr. Lannister.”

He gave her an odd look, then, and opened his mouth to say something else, but a gong sounded for the guests to assemble in the auditorium for the awards proper. She was up.

“Jaime, I have to go. I have to give this speech….”

He smiled, slightly mocking, and dipped his head, standing aside for her to walk ahead of him into the auditorium.

*******

Brienne stood gripping the lectern and took a deep, steadying breath. The notes in front of her had been carefully (if swiftly) crafted to interest the audience, and move their emotions, make them see the importance of properly funded research, and hammer home the importance of taking risks and looking for new angles. Seeing Jaime had fractured her thoughts and cut the tongue loose in her head – to him, she could barely string a coherent sentence together, her emotions were too strong, and the stakes felt too high. But here, here she was in charge. She knew what she was doing. She could make this auditorium of people pay attention to her every word, and she wasn’t wasting it. She raised her head, looked out over the room of wealthy, privileged guests, smiled, and started to speak.

**JAIME**

Jaime stood half hidden in shadows in the back of the hall, staring in fascination. This was a Brienne he had never seen. She was holding the room in the palm of her hand, painting a picture of a future so bright, so hopeful, she even made him wish he understood some of the science so he could be part of it too. When he had first seen her talking to Tyrion his heart and his cock had both responded at once – as much as he wanted her smile, her trust, her friendship, right at that moment he would have given everything he owned to be able to drag her off to a dark corner and screw her brains out. Hell, he’d have done it on the damn stage given half a chance.

And then he’d realised – he could see her face clearly. And everything about it made him love her more. He realised he adored being able to search her face with his eyes and not be shut out by the mask she always wore at the club. He wanted to pick her up in his arms and dance her around the room until they were both dizzy and laughing (although, in those heels, she’d have a better chance of picking him up, since she had a good three inches on him). But before he could say anything more, he realised that despite the familiar flare of want in her eyes (thank the gods she clearly still wanted him in bed, if nowhere else), she seemed…..distant, hesitant, unsure. It was not something he could fully understand.

And now he watched her, and he saw more pieces of her life as Brienne slot into place. Her intellect, her drive, her commitment to her work. He felt both proud and a bit intimidated. It was an entirely unfamiliar feeling, if not an unpleasant one. He was so caught up in it, in fact, that for some time he didn’t notice the hands that had been wrapping around his torso. With a start, he looked down and saw two slim, tanned arms slipping around his waist, and a perfectly manicured hand slipping down to palm the front of his trousers.

“Cersei”, he said flatly.

“Mmmm, you _have_ been missing me, Jaime” she purred, the hand continuing its exploration.

Dragging his mind back from Brienne, he looked down at Cersei as she wound herself around him, rubbing a leg against his and pressing her breasts to his chest. She was still so beautiful, still so seductive, but he could feel himself grow cold and unresponsive the longer he looked at her and not at Brienne.

“Not that much, cousin” he said, and taking her hands, forcibly lifted her away from him. She pouted, starting to ask him something, but he realised from the audience applause that Brienne had, rather abruptly it seemed to him, finished her speech. He craned his head to look about but realised she must have walked well away from the lectern because he couldn’t see her.

“I have to go, Cers. Maybe another time” he muttered, before hurrying away, intent on finding her so they could talk properly to one another, maybe go somewhere else……

 

**BRIENNE**

Brienne leant against the pillar, gasping for breath. She felt like she did after an unusually hard run, when she’d pushed herself so hard she thought she would throw up. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Tyrion come waddling towards her as fast as he could, but anything she might have said died in her mouth at the look of straightforward concern on his face.

“What the hell happened, Legs? For someone who said they were rubbish at public speaking, you were killing it out there. And then…what? Its like you just shut down.”

“I saw Jaime standing at the back of the hall”, she managed to grit out.

Tyrion smiled, slightly uncertainly. “And that’s unwelcome? I rather thought you two were….well….whatever. Was he making faces? He does that at me sometimes”.

“None I’d want to see. Your cousin was wrapped round him like an eel.”

“Oh, shit”. Tyrion, for once, looked like he was floundering, but Brienne was in no mood to take pity on him.

“I told you it wasn’t meant to be between us, and I was right. This is exactly his world and so entirely not mine. I will never fit in here, like he does. Or Cersei. Or even you. I will never be able to face down the stares that tell me no-one can understand why a man like him is with a woman like me. I’ll never be able to politely look the other way while he fucks random, beautiful women because he’s bored and I’m not there…..”

She finally ran out of steam and ground to a halt, before meeting Tyrion’s eyes and realising he wasn’t looking at her at all, but staring at some point behind her. With a feeling of inevitability, she turned to find Jaime glaring at her, his eyes as cold and hard as she’d ever seen them. For a moment, the three of them stood, in an awkward triangle at the centre of the echoing atrium, before Tyrion, glancing sideways at Brienne, took a step towards his brother and began, “Jaime, it’s not….”

“Just leave, Tyrion, this is not something you need to hear”.

Tyrion grimaced, and started to retreat, before turning to them both. “I’ve listened to both of you, both drunk and maudlin over each other for the last weeks, tell me how much you love the other one. How the other doesn’t love you. How it’s all so bloody complicated. Well, it isn’t. It’s entirely simple, and if you would both get over yourselves and your bloody insecurities you’d be able to see what stares everyone else in the face who sees the two of you together”. And with that, he turned and walked away without looking back.

Brienne blinked, and looked back at Jaime, feeling utterly lost. Unfortunately, he still looked grim and angry. “Do you really feel like that about me? That I’m some ….some superficial ….rich boy, without a single honourable bone in his body? That I would treat you so badly?”

“No, that’s not what I meant!” she snapped. Then, more quietly, “but I saw you with your cousin, and she’s exactly the sort of person you’re meant to be with. Someone beautiful, someone who understands your world, who fits with you. Not…not someone like me”.

If possible, Jaime’s eyes narrowed even further. “I’m meant to be with someone like her? Really? I think you’re right, Brienne. You really don’t know me after all.” And he turned on his heel, and stalked away from her.

**JAIME**

Jaime knew he’d been a dick to her. Again. It was like her lack of faith always bought out the absolute worst in him. Every bloody time. He slumped back against his pillows and pulled the duvet closer around himself, shivering, before picking up his whisky. He had started to develop a habit of thinking of Brienne every time he drank whisky now, but tonight his thoughts weren’t about drinking it with her (or even dribbling it across her belly and licking it off – although the idea did make him shudder slightly with pleasure), just about knocking himself out with it so he didn’t have to keep seeing her face as he’d turned and walked away from her. She’d looked so strong, and yet so very, very vulnerable.

When Brienne had told him he should be with someone like Cersei, she couldn’t have known how sick to his bones it made him feel. Because a part of him truly did wonder whether perhaps that was, in the end, all he was worth. Was he only good enough for someone who wouldn’t acknowledge him? Who, when it came to it, didn’t truly want _him_ , just whatever he could do for her? Brienne clearly thought so little of his worth and honour, that not only did she think he deserved that, but she thought he would never keep his promises of loyalty to her either. He knew the evil taste in his mouth was a result of the dragging suspicion that, even if she were wrong about that, he still would never be good enough for her. He was rich, and handsome, and had just the right degree of celebrity; he had no illusions or false modesty about himself. But he also realised, as he watched her speak to that room of the most wealthy, intelligent and influential people in Westeros, that she could out-think and out-class him every second of every day. She was young, and bright, and (despite some extraordinarily kinky times in bed with him)….pure. Maybe it was time to take some time out, or at least re-evaluate himself; he knew he wasn’t the man he had been when he was younger (gods forgive him) but the man he was wasn’t exactly brimming with joy and purpose either. Maybe if he could get some clarity, some sense of himself and who he was now, he would be better able to approach Brienne again. He needed to clear his head.

Suddenly his eyes sharpened on the picture hanging across from him. He’d been idly staring at it as he thought, but now he focused in on it so hard he felt like someone had thrown a glass of ice cold water over him. He’d always wanted to know where it was, and he wanted to get away. He would find that scene and go there, just for a brief holiday, and figure out what to do. He reached up for the picture, intending to take it down, take it to Tyrion’s house, and find out who painted it, and where. And then he saw the tiny writing on the top right corner on the back and he started to laugh and laugh, until tears ran down his face.

**BRIENNE**

Brienne was usually comfortable and confident in her own skin when she was at work, but not today. She wanted to squirm in her chair as she looked at Ellaria Sand sitting, poised and elegant, across from her.

“I do apologise for the intrusion, Dr. Tarth; normally I would not dream of interrupting you in your daily life, but I find myself in something of a quandary and I felt that even a phone call would not suffice”.

Brienne was completely floored; what on earth was going on? Her first suspicion, that Ellaria had found out that she and Jaime knew each other’s identity, had met outside of the club, would be bad enough, but surely not merit a personal visit at work? Still, if it was that, perhaps better to come clean and try to repair some of the damage.

“Ellaria, I had been meaning to speak to you too. About myself and Jaime – I mean, Leo”. Brienne blushed a deep red, and Ellaria raised one perfect eyebrow.

“I’m sorry, but obviously we know who the other is; I promise, I absolutely didn’t intend to find out, we didn’t tell each other, but there were circumstances……” she trailed away, knowing she sounded feeble, even in her own ears. When she looked back up, Ellaria had not moved, but now looked rather amused, and….indulgent?

“yes, I am aware that you and….Jaime….know each other’s true identity, and have met outside the club. Mr. Lannister came to see me this morning”.

“This morning? Why? Is something the matter?” _Is he….please gods, he hasn’t asked to no longer be her paramour?_ The mere thought is like a fist around her heart and she almost gasps.

“Well, that’s what I wanted to discuss. Mr. Lannister assured me you had done nothing dishonourable, and said he didn’t want you to feel like you had broken any rules. To assure you of this, he told me everything, and I asked that I discuss it with you as I see fit. Under the circumstances, I quite see how it happened, and while it is a very unusual situation for the club, I think we can just accept the serendipity of life and move on as adults, yes? Although, obviously I will expect you both to maintain the illusion of Leo and Sapphire, for the benefit of our other patrons.”

Brienne sagged slightly in her chair in relief. She could have hugged Ellaria. But then her brain caught up with her heart and made her frown.

“I do appreciate that Ellaria, truly. It was weighing on my mind a bit, but Jaime knows me rather well. It was kind of him to tell you. But I don’t understand why you had to visit in person?” She puzzled, before adding hastily “not that it isn’t a pleasure to see you, of course!”

Again Ellaria’s eyebrow lifted and her lips twitched slightly in amusement, but only briefly before her face took on a far more serious expression.

“As you say, Mr. Lannister knows you rather well. And you him, I believe. I also believe you care rather more for him than is ordinary in the relationships we foster at the Sand?” When Brienne was unable to reply, she went on, “This is why I have come to see you – because I find Mr. Lannister’s visit today worried me”.

She paused, and looked away through the window, while Brienne just stared at her, utterly nonplussed.

“I am good at reading men, Dr. Tarth. Mr. Lannister has always struck me as a man who uses his considerable gifts to shield any vulnerability or hurt he feels. He is very good at it, but those vulnerabilities and hurts are very much there, for those with eyes to see. Today there was something else there too. Some kind of recklessness, that made me really rather concerned. Other than telling me about the identity issue, he visited me to ask that I send you a message. He plans to be away this week and is going to miss club night. He said to say that he hoped you would still see him the week after. He did not say anything about whether you were free to take another patron as partner for club night, although I think we both know the answer there.

Normally, I would not interfere in relationships developing within the club. But when I enquired where he was going, Mr. Lannister said he was going _surfing_.” The way she said ‘surfing’ was much the way Brienne would imagine another person saying ‘urethral dilators’ – something mystifying and perhaps rather distasteful.

“I am not much given to sports, particularly not in the sea, and particularly not on the cusp of winter storms. But even I know that surfing at this time of year is generally held to be rather dangerous. Given the circumstances, and his demeanour, I find the whole visit…..worrying. I think both myself and Olyvar would feel reassured to know you were aware of the situation. And now that you are, I must go. I have much to do to prepare for tonight.”

She rose to her feet gracefully, smoothing her silk pencil skirt down her long, shapely legs, and looked down at Brienne, who was still sitting there with her mouth open.

“Unlike many people, those at Club Sand do not believe sex is something to be ashamed of. It is healthy, natural and enriches our lives, and should be given space to do so. Love is also healthy, natural and enriching. In my experience it is very rare to find a person one loves who can also prove to be a fulfilling and adventurous sexual partner at the same time. Should you ever find such a relationship, it is to be cherished.”

And with that, she stepped quietly out of the office, leaving Brienne alone.

******

“Tyrion! TYRION!!! Open the door!”

She was just about to bang her fist on the door again, when it suddenly swung open to reveal a girl wearing the tightest and shortest denim shorts Brienne had ever seen, paired with a small tight white vest. She looked like she was early twenties, and annoyingly beautiful, albeit in a low-key, unflashy, natural way. She was one of those girls with bright, even, white teeth, glossy brown hair with caramel highlights, and an upturned button nose. One of those girls that made Brienne feel utterly inadequate.

Before she could say anything the girl looked Brienne up and down, quite calmly, then yelled back into the house “Tyrion, it’s Brienne, you’d better get out of bed, lover-boy!” before turning and walking back down the hall, leaving the door open and presumably expecting Brienne to follow. Brienne herself stood there with her mouth open, not sure which was more surprising, that the girl knew who she was, had called Tyrion “ _lover-boy_ ”, or that she hadn’t so much as batted an eye at the sight of Brienne’s scarred face, broad shoulders or height.

Eventually Brienne pulled herself together enough to follow the girl down the hallway. She’d found Tyrion’s address online (his social media presence was extensive and open, in sharp contrast to his brother’s), and although she had expected somewhere fairly large, she hadn’t expected it to be as comfortable and homely as this. There were (admittedly, fairly low slung) squishy sofas everywhere, and Persian rugs on the wooden floors that glowed with colour. The effect was somewhat ruined in the living room, by the smell of old pizza (the boxes clearly kicked under the coffee table) and various beer and wine bottles scattered about. Next thing she knew Tyrion wandered into the living room with nothing but a small towel wrapped round his waist, blinking in the afternoon light.

“Tyrion, its mid-afternoon, were you in bed?” She asked, before she could stop herself.

“Of course, Tysha’s home and we had some catching up to do. Far better in daylight when I can see everything!” he said, with a lascivious look at the girl – Tysha – across the room, who was now tidying up the pizza boxes and bottles. She straightened, swatted gently at Tyrion’s head, before looking over at Brienne. “I’m going to shower – but if he gives you any of his bullshit, feel free to dangle him by his ankles out of a window. Might teach him a valuable lesson”. And then she sauntered out of the room. Brienne realised that whatever the girl looked like, she liked Tysha. She looked over at Tyrion and saw him watching her walk away with as naked a look of love and affection she had ever seen. It reminded her why she was there.

“Where’s Jaime?” It came out bluntly, but she needed an answer.

Tyrion looked confused. “He’s not with you? He left me a message at work, saying he was going to Shipbreaker Bay for a few days, after he found out that was the location of a painting I bought him once; since that’s near Tarth, I figured you two had patched things up and were off on some filthy, loved-up minibreak”. He took in her work clothes and look of strain, and clearly re-evaluated. “I guess not”.

“ _Shipbreaker Bay_? Oh gods, surely he wouldn’t….” Suddenly her legs wouldn’t hold her and she subsided onto the nearest sofa, her mind a whirl of panic.

“What? What’s wrong with going to Shipbreaker Bay? It’s hardly a haven of depravity. Even if he’s not with you, he’ll go for walks along the shore, admire the storms, and come back all refreshed and happy”.

“Ellaria Sand came to see me. She told me that Jaime told her he was going surfing. He didn’t say where.”

Tyrion paled slightly. Everyone knew the reputation of Shipbreaker Bay. It had some huge swells at this time of year, but no-one surfed there anymore after some particularly vicious undercurrents had pulled under and drowned a group of four young surfers some years ago. Their eyes met, and Brienne knew Tyrion had the same thought as her: Jaime would totally see it as the kind of challenge he enjoyed. The danger to his life is what would make it fun for him.

Tyrion crossed the living room to a bowl of keys, took out a pair, and tossed them to her. “He left his Shadowcat here; you’d best take it, it’ll get you there fastest”.

**JAIME**

Jaime pulled up the zip on his wetsuit, and then bent to put his booties on. The shoreline of the bay was a wide, semi-circle of stony sand, with towering black cliffs on either side, forming arms reaching out to sea and around, almost enough to enclose the bay. In summer, it would form a magnificent natural harbour, a large, protected body of water in which to moor boats, paddle a dinghy or go for a swim. Now, with the early winter storms on their way, the looming cliffs had turned the bay into a cauldron of wind and water and spray. The crashing waves out in the bay were gunmetal gray, topped with white foam that hissed and swirled in the chaos. They looked _cold_.

He grinned to himself – Shipbreaker Bay. _Her_ bay. He might struggle to get what he wanted with her, but he could ride her waves. As he pulled on his gloves, the stereo in the pickup starting belting out an old Stewart song.

_….Drawn by the undertow_   
_My life is out of control_   
_I believe this wave will bear my weight_   
_So let it flow….._

He grinned again, and grabbed his board. It was a good omen.

**BRIENNE**

The Shadowcat was so very Jaime, that she would have laughed aloud, if she hadn’t been so tense. It was a thing of beauty, and required very little from her to make it roar like a giant beast. The cautious part of her, the part of her that was all Brienne, felt her stomach tie in knots, knowing the power of the vehicle, and what could happen to both she and it, if she made a mistake on this drive through the night. But just as loud in her head as Brienne, was Sapphire, appreciating the sheer power and elegance of it. Regardless of how she felt about it, both parts of her were screaming to put their foot down, to get to the bay before Jaime did anything reckless.

Maintaining as much self-control as she could, she forced herself to maintain a fast but sensible speed, remembering that other night drive that had ended in so much tragedy for her family. But as the hours of the night crawled by, it gave her time to think; to remember the first time she had seen him walking towards her in the club. The first time he made her come (and all the times after). She remembered her delight in their exchanges about whisky, both the open and honest ones, and the ones hidden behind a computer screen. She thought of the laughter, and licking berries and cream off each other. She remembered their disagreements over becoming paramours and crying in his arms on the floor of a shower.

By the time dawn broke, she didn’t really care what world he came from - hers would be irreparably shattered without him in it. She also didn’t care what names they used – he could call her Sapphire, Wench, even Boot-Face, so long as he was still around to tease her. As the light in the sky got stronger, so did her panic that she would be too late. The Shadowcat growled and roared as her self-control crumbled and her foot pushed harder and harder on the accelerator. By the time she topped the rise to the bay and saw the maelstrom of wind and water the bay had turned into she was going so fast that the mud-spattered car was only just able to slew to a stop beside the pick up truck that must belong to him. It was the only other car there. But of Jaime himself, there was no sign.

**JAIME**

He’d never felt waves like them. Huge, roiling, rising with inexorable, primal power, he had never felt so small and helpless. Getting out past the line of surf had taken a staggering amount of his energy, and quite a lot of nerve, so he was relieved to have got himself to the centre of the bay, from where he would ordinarily have tried to catch a wave. Something was off, though. The shape of the bay itself meant that the waves were not marching in from the far out sea in the straight lines he was used to. The water was moving in all directions, waves themselves moved in unexpected directions, the crash and surge of breaking waves against shoreline and cliff face, turning the whole thing into an unpredictable whirlpool.

Sitting up on the board to get his bearings, he could feel his feet tugged by currents below the surface, just as dangerous as the waves above it. It was beginning to dawn on him that this was possibly not the most sensible choice he had ever made. The thought of getting back to shore, into his warm clothes, and finding the nearest inn, where he could get a glass of good whisky and think about Brienne, plan ways to make her forgive him, make her want him – all of him, not just who he was in the club – made him smile. In that instant, his concentration wavered, and the wave bearing down on him from behind and to his left that he hadn’t seen crashed over his head, knocking him clean off the board and bearing him down under the dark cold water. Under the surface he spun, the crashing waves and ripping currents spinning and yanking him around, until he had no idea which way was up, which way was air, which way was _life_. His vision was getting darker, until his last conscious thought was _Brienne will think I am an idiot…._

**BRIENNE**

Climbing out of the Shadowcat, Brienne went over to the truck, but it was empty and cold. She desperately scanned the beach and the waves, but they were deserted. It was a landscape that looked like no human had ever even set foot here. Except…..except for that thing by the water’s edge. It was white and long. Numbly she found her legs walking down the beach towards it, even as her mind refused to accept what it was. By the time she reached it, the waves were washing around her feet, and in front of her, still tumbled by the surf, was a piece of surfboard. It had been snapped in half.

Abruptly, her legs gave out, and she dropped to the sand next to it, reaching out her hand to touch it, but unable to cover the last few inches. Her mind was a white, whirling, screaming silence. She opened her mouth, but no sound came out. And then….a hand on her shoulder. Cold, wet, but gripping her hard and tight. She looked up into the face of a ghost in disbelief. Jaime towered over her in a black and red wetsuit, dripping seawater from his hair and beard, and blood from a scrape along his temple, cheek and jawline, but still very clearly alive. She wasn’t aware of moving but was up on her feet and flinging herself at him so hard he stumbled backwards. He didn’t say a word, just wrapped his arms around her, as hers were around him, and they clung together, on the edge of sea and land, beneath a wide open sky. She felt him shift slightly against her, and moved her face into his neck before she heard his voice:

“What. The. FUCK. Have you done to my car, Brienne?!”

**EPILOGUE**

Jaime woke up and stretched, lazily. His cock was hard and aching, but he was alone in bed, the other side was cold. However, he could smell coffee, and….bacon? Pushing away the duvet, he pulled on some superhero pyjama bottoms and padded out into the hallway and down the stairs, before coming to a stop in the doorway to the kitchen. Rays of sunshine streamed through the large windows, illuminating the woman standing with her back to him at the counter, holding a steaming coffee mug in one hand, turning some bacon with a spatula in the other and peering at a tablet. His eyes ran up her impossibly long, bare legs to just below her bottom, covered by one of his light blue formal shirts. It looked better on her. Of course, he’d prefer it if it was on the floor, so he could admire her strong back and broad, muscled shoulders…… As if realising she was being watched, she turned her head to look at him, straw-like hair sticking up at all angles and wide mouth curving into a smile of welcome. He walked towards her and she turned, melting into his embrace. He wrapped his arms around her waist pulling her against his body and enjoying the feeling of solid warmth. She lifted one long leg to hook behind his knee and draw him closer as she wound her arms around his neck, tangling her hands in his hair at the nape of his neck. Keeping his left arm around her waist, he raised his right hand to cup her jaw, cradling her face, and drew her into him until their foreheads were touching.

_“Jaime……”_


End file.
